A Fool
by alicewanderlynde
Summary: a very short one shot from a fan fiction newbie


The door clicked shut behind him. I wanted to think that it sounded ominous, or cold, anything save the empty nothingness that presently held me captive. Perhaps 'captive' is a poor choice for a word: nothing keeps me here and I am free to leave whenever I so choose. Yet I cannot, for I am as they have all told me for all my life. I am a fool.

Being raised with four other sisters one quickly learns their place, being not as beautiful as Jane, clever as Lizzy, nor as dedicated as Mary. (Though we may all agree that particular merit doesn't hold much appeal when one is dull and virtually talentless.) Kitty threw her lot in as the family lemming and as for myself? I chose not to be cast into their shadows. No one truly bothers to whisper in a town as small and dreary as Meryton, they call me a flirt, say that I drink too much punch, and probably shouldn't be out yet. Given my present circumstance it's quite possible that they were on to something, but why should I have cared when it was all such fun?

I'd seen countless men admire my elder sisters in particular and it all came to nothing every time, obviously what they were doing wasn't working! It wouldn't be fair to blame Lizzy for rejecting our cousin since he is quite the detestable toad in both manner and appearance, not to mention a ghastly bore. He was, however, the only offer any of us had been able to wrangle in and I fear I shall hear Mamma screeching about the hedge groves and our inevitable future of dying penniless spinsters in my dreams for the rest of my life. I determined it would not be so! I would marry a man both well off AND devilishly handsome. Everyone would envy me, I was sure of it.

Wickham was perfect in every regard; easily capturing the hearts of an entire room with a wide grin and I shall not be ashamed to say even now that he cuts a dashing figure in that red coat. When he asked me to come away with him it was oh so romantic. Just like one of those novels hidden away in Papa's library. (Though, to be honest Papa would never go through the trouble to hide anything especially not when he thought most of his daughters too flighty to sit down with a book, so they were easy enough to find.) I readily agreed to pack my bag and steal away into the night so we could be off to Scotland. It made sense that we would have to stop in London, and of course we would share a room seeing how we hadn't the money yet to purchase two- what was it to matter anyhow since tomorrow we'd be married? Following that train of thought it wasn't hard for Wickham to curl up close to me with his pretty words:

I was beautiful, so much more alluring than my sisters.

He could not wait to marry me on the morrow.

It wasn't fair of me to temp him so, had I no idea the effect I had upon him?

Had I no compassion?

No one would ever know. We'd be back home within the week lawfully wed.

We were not back within the week. Each morning he leaves and each evening he comes back to this inn yet a little later. It had been four days before I felt the itch of something being wrong. He never said my name, nor would he look me in the eyes during the course of the act. In fact I'm not certain if it would have made a difference with my being awake or asleep. He simply gripped my hips or pressed me against the wall and had his way before quickly spending himself and falling to sleep soon after.

Mr. Darcy came last night. He yelled at Wickham and glared at me, though lord knows why he thinks it's any of his business. Pompous fob. I'm not sure what they spoke of when they left the room but this morning I am to be wed. No longer possessed by any illusion of love, I may be a fool but I'm surely not stupid, however the idea that anyone else might truly know my circumstance is repugnant. The last they heard from me I was willingly running off on a grand adventure to be married to the most handsome and amiable gentleman of any of our acquaintance. So be it. I shall stand with my head held high and marry my _dear_ Wikkie, for why should I cry when I'm so dreadfully happy? Tis such a laugh.


End file.
